


such complete intoxication

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [30]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14615247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Well, your dad's going to miss your party,” Wynonna says definitively.Nicole looks up, frowning. “My what?”Wynonna starts to smile, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Your party,” she repeats.“I’m not having a party,” Nicole says slowly.“Yes, you are,” Wynonna argues.





	such complete intoxication

**Author's Note:**

> It’s 1983, Nicole is turning 12, and there’s a feeling in her stomach that just won’t go away.

**“High on You” Survivor, 1983  
** _ And I, I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you, girl. I must be livin’ in a fantasy world. Such complete intoxication; I’m high on you. _

“Your birthday is coming up,” her mom says as she puts a bowl of oatmeal down on the table.

“Eight days,” Nicole says around a mouthful of oats and cinnamon. “Waverly is counting.” She winces as she swallows, and takes the cinnamon from in front of Nathan, pouring more into her bowl.

“I’d like you to have some oatmeal with your cinnamon,” her mom says, snatching the cinnamon back. “Less reading, more eating,” she instructs Nathan, nodding at the X-Men comic he’s looking over.

“He can’t read,” Nicole mutters.

Nathan glares at her. “I can-”

“Don’t start,” her mom says wearily. “I worked two shifts in a row, and one of them was with  _ Brenda _ , so please. Don’t start.”

Nicole looks down, kicking her heel against the leg of her chair. “Sorry.”

“Sorry,” Nathan echoes. He closes his comic book and takes a large bite of his oatmeal. “I talked to Dad last night.”

Nicole’s head snaps up, and she glares at Nathan, swinging her foot out sharply. He yelps when her toes find his shin, and scowls at her. Her mom sighs, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead, eyes closing.

“I’m not sorry,” Nathan says defiantly. “You said I could talk to him whenever I wanted to.”

“I know,” her mom says carefully. “And you can.”

Nathan sticks his tongue out at Nicole. “He wants to see me.”

“You’re in school,” her mom says. She takes a large sip from her coffee cup.

“This summer,” Nathan says. “He said I could come visit for a few weeks this summer.”

Nicole digs her spoon into her oatmeal too hard, the metal scraping against the bottom of the dish. It hurts her ears but she ignores the pain. She picks at the skin of her thumb with her free hand, hiding it under the table so her mom can’t holler at her for it. Nathan had kicked her out of the kitchen last night and stretched the phone cord out into the pantry, but Nicole thought he was on the phone with Perry, or Hetty Tate. She hadn’t cared; Wynonna and Waverly were over and they’d been in the middle of a game of Lost Treasure that Nicole was actually winning.

If she had known her  _ dad _ was on the phone, she would have unplugged the receiver from the wall.  

“We’ll talk about it later,” her mom says, glancing quickly at Nicole.

Nathan’s chair scrapes the floor as he pushes back from the table. “Why can’t we talk about it  _ now _ ?”

“Because I said  _ later _ ,” her mom repeats.

Nathan turns to her, jabbing a finger in her face. “Just get over it, Nicole.”

“Nathan,” her mom says.

“Just because  _ you _ hate him doesn’t mean  _ I _ have to,” he continues, ignoring her mom. “He’s my  _ dad _ and I want to see him.”

“ _ Nathan _ ,” her mom snaps. “I said later. So you either wait, or it’s off the table.”

Nathan stands up and shoves his chair back under the table. It wobbles against the tabletop and falls back with a bang that makes Nicole’s hand twitch, oatmeal splattering across the table and on Nathan’s comic.

“You ruin  _ everything _ ,” Nathan hisses, grabbing his comic book and stomping out of the kitchen.

Nicole listens to his heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then in the hall. His door slams hard enough to make Nicole’s stomach turn over, and she looks down at her bowl of oatmeal. She’s not hungry anymore, so she pushes it into the middle of the table.

Her mom sighs heavily, stacking Nathan’s bowl on top of Nicole’s. “I’m sorry, honey,” she says quietly.

Nicole shrugs.

“I know talking about your dad… upsets you,” her mom continues. “Nathan understands that, too. He just-”

“Likes dad,” Nicole interrupts. She folds her arms over her chest. “Whatever.”

“You’re allowed to be angry,” her mom says, resting her hand on Nicole’s arm and pulling it away from her body. She squeezes softly, and some of the tension fades under her warm touch. “You’re allowed to not want to talk about him. Or to him.”

Nicole chews on her bottom lip for a moment, eyes on the table. She stares at a lump of oatmeal, watching it slowly slide down the outside of her bowl.

“So,” her mom finally says. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t care.”

Her mom ducks her head, catching Nicole’s eye. “Your birthday is on a Monday this year.”

“Figures,” Nicole mutters. “Nothing good happens on Mondays.”

“I’ll switch around my shifts so I can work the day and then maybe we do something special?” Her mom’s eyes light up. “What about going to Chu’s? The three of us?”

Nicole sits up a little. She does like Chu’s, and her mom worked last year on her birthday, unable to pass up the Sunday overtime money. “Okay,” she says slowly.

Her mom smiles widely. “Okay.” She glances over at the clock on the wall and sighs. “I need to get to work, but…”

“I’m fine,” Nicole says. “I’m going to go to The Patch.”

Her mom brushes some of her hair back off her face. “You’ll stay out of Curtis and Gus’s way, right?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Curtis wants us in the way. He calls us free entertainment, and he’s showing me how to work the jukebox some day.”

“I’m sure Gus loves that,” her mom says. “Just be nice.”

“I always am.”

“And remind Wynonna to be nice.”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “I can try.”

“That’s my girl,” her mom says. She stoops over and presses a kiss to the top of Nicole’s head. “Let Nathan know when you leave?” She moves into the living room, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “Nathan! I’m leaving!”

A door opens. “Fine,” Nathan shouts back. The door slams closed again.

Her mom sighs and shakes her head, scooping up her purse and keys as she breezes through the kitchen. She smiles softly at Nicole, and pushes out of the back door. It claps shut behind her, and Nicole closes her eyes, listening to the soft rumble of her mom’s  1974 Ford Country Squire station wagon starting up. She doesn’t open her eyes until she can’t hear the engine running anymore, and Nathan’s radio comes on upstairs.

Nicole scowls and puts both of their bowls in the kitchen sink, running the tap just enough to fill them both so the oatmeal doesn’t stick to the sides. She doesn’t bother telling Nathan she’s leaving, and she doesn’t need to go back upstairs. She’s in her jeans and Poison t-shirt, and the cassette she wanted to show Curtis, the one she found on the bookshelf in the living room where all the tapes her dad left behind are still sitting, is in her front pocket. She lets the back door slam, and if Nathan hears it, he hears it. If he doesn’t… Nicole shrugs to herself. She’ll be back before dinner, at least.

It’s May, and the air is still cool this early in the morning. It bites at her arms, so she leans over her handlebars and pedals harder. She only gets through half of her current favorite song - “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” by Journey - before she skids to a stop in front of The Patch. She doesn’t bother locking her bike to the rack. If someone wants to steal Nathan’s hand-me-down Foiler, they can have it.

She’s not-so-secretly hoping her mom is getting her a new bike for her birthday, anyway.

“Well, there she is!” Curtis shouts as she comes in the door. He tosses a white cloth over his shoulder and leans over the counter. “It’s about time you got here.”

Nicole flushes a little. “I’m not late.” She still walks towards him, pulling the cassette out of her pocket. “What about this one?”

Curtis smiles as he picks it up. “The Moody Blues. Good stuff, girl. Good eye.”

Nicole smiles proudly. “I’m still not late,” she says a moment later.

“Tell that to Wynonna,” Curtis says, tipping his head towards the booth Wynonna likes best. She’s in the corner, scowling down at something laid out flat on the table. “She’s been counting the minutes.”

“Wynonna can’t count,” Waverly says as she breezes by Nicole.

“Yes, she can,” Nicole says defensively. She feels her stomach twist a little as Waverly’s hand brushes against her arm. She moves away, her skin burning. Waverly frowns at her but keeps walking, jabbing her finger at the jukebox. It’s been happening more and more, Nicole realizes; that feeling she gets in the pit of her stomach every time Waverly smiles at her or touches her or says her name softly. She rubs at her belly for a minute, frowning.

Waverly turns back and pauses, tipping her head to the side as she studies Nicole. “What’s wrong?”

Nicole looks up, blinking. “What?” 

“You’re all…” Waverly comes closer, her finger still sticking out. She pokes Nicole in the forehead, right above the space between her eyes. “Wrinkled.”

Nicole winces and rubs at her forehead. “Get bent,” she mutters, a sudden rush of something she can’t explain burning through her.

Waverly’s eyes widen. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

“Waverly,” Gus scolds. She smiles at Nicole. “Wynonna was about to send a search party.”

“I’m not even late,” Nicole says, her voice too hard.

Gus pulls back, studying her in the same way Waverly had. “Alright, then. You go on and take a seat,” she says slowly. “Have you eaten?”

Nicole looks down at the floor and toes the linoleum before she answers. “Yes, ma’am. Oatmeal.”

Gus is quiet for a moment. “Sit. I’ll have Bobo make you some homefries.”

Nicole gives Gus something that feels like a grimace, even if she’s trying to smile. She slinks across the dining room, feeling Gus and Curtis and Waverly staring at the back of her head. She slides into the booth in the seat across from Wynonna.

Wynonna looks up quickly before going back to the page in front of her. She pauses, sliding her headphones off her ears and propping her chin up on her hand, eyes narrowed as she looks Nicole over. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

“Wynonna,” Gus says sharply. She looks at Waverly. “Is this where you learn to speak like that?”

“I learned it from Nicole,” Wynonna says quickly.

Nicole scowls at her.

“No, you didn’t,” Gus says. “I bet you learned it from that Holliday boy.” She takes Wynonna’s silence as a  _ yes _ . “I told you that boy was nothing but-”

“Oh, hush,” Curtis says, smiling. He winks in Nicole’s direction. “There’re much worse thing she could be saying.”

“That’s right,” Wynonna agrees. “The other day, I heard Champ Hardy say that his jacket was the ti-”

Nicole coughs loudly, drowning out the last of Wynonna’s sentence. Wynonna pouts at her. Gus looks back and forth between the two of them before she throws her hands up in the air and pushes the swinging door open, ignoring Curtis calling after her. Wynonna’s shoulders drop when Curtis sighs heavily, and even Nicole shrinks back against the vinyl leather booth.

“Wynonna,” Curtis says, his voice as heavy as his sigh.

“I like Doc,” Wynonna says defensively. “Just because  _ she _ doesn’t-”

“ _ She _ has a name,” Curtis says firmly. “And you’d do best to start-”

Wynonna’s eyes flash. “ _ I _ don’t need to-”

Nicole kicks her leg out under the table, catching Wynonna in the shin. Wynonna yelps loudly, her hand going down to rub at her leg. She takes her attention away from Curtis and turns it on Nicole instead, glaring hard.

“Dickweed,” she mutters under her breath.

“Hoser,” Nicole whispers back.

Wynonna glares at her for another line of The Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” before the thin line of her mouth breaks into a smile. “Whatever.” She pushes the page in front of her towards Nicole. “Help me with my spelling words?”

Nicole covers the page with her hand. “Received,” she says.

Wynonna purses her lips. “R-e-c-e-e-v-e-d,” she spells slowly.

Nicole shakes her head. “Too many e’s.”

Wynonna takes a deep breath. “R-e-c-i-e-v-e-d,” she tries again.

“Remember,” Nicole says kindly. “It’s ‘i before e except after  _ c _ ’.”

Wynonna’s hand, the one on the table, grips the sugar container hard enough that her knuckles go white. Nicole calmly peels her fingers back - the last time Wynonna got frustrated and threw the ketchup bottles, Nicole had spent a perfectly good Saturday washing windows at The Patch instead of going to Mattie’s. 

“Spelling is  _ for noobs _ ,” Wynonna says, her back teeth grinding together. “Someday, there’s going to be, like, spellers everywhere.”

“Spellers,” Nicole repeats, freeing the sugar container from Wynonna’s hand and sliding it across the table towards the jelly sorter. “What’s that?”

“You know,” Wynonna prompts. “Like, big computers that just spell whatever you want, even if you don’t know all of the letters.”

Nicole laughs. “No way.”

Wynonna nods seriously. “You wait. Someday.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and someday, they’ll make sneakers just for girls. Or, or they’ll have girls box in the Olympics.”

Wynonna shrugs a shoulder at her. “Or I’ll just marry someone who can spell all the hard words.” She peers at Nicole. “You’re a good speller, right?”

That feeling comes back and Nicole scowls, pushing a hand down hard against her stomach.

“Okay, what’s your problem?” Wynonna asks. “You look like you ate a goldfish. Your face is all…” She purses her lips and pulls her eyes together until her forehead is a mess of wrinkles. “Like that,” she says, her face relaxing. She looks around The Patch - it’s quiet now, the lull between the early morning crowd and the later breakfast bunch - and lowers her voice. “Did your dad call?”

The paper in Nicole’s hand crumples. She stares down at it, eyes slightly wide.

“I’ll take that as a  _ yes _ ,” Wynonna mutters. She reaches across the table and gently takes the paper away from Nicole, prying it out of her tense grip.

Nicole shakes her head. “No. He didn’t. Well, I mean. Nathan talked to him, last night.”

“Is he coming home for your birthday?” Wynonna asks hopefully.

Nicole scoffs. “As if.”

Wynonna’s shoulders slump, defeated.

It makes Nicole angry, sometimes. Wynonna doesn’t get it, even if she should. Her dad isn’t coming back. Not for her birthday, not ever. He told her every time they talked, back before she stopped taking the phone from Nathan or picking up when she was home alone. Sometimes, Nicole wants to grab Wynonna by the shoulders and shake her; no one is coming back. Not Nicole’s dad and not Wynonna’s mom. But she doesn’t, because Wynonna always sighs softly and pats her gently on the shoulder, and really, Wynonna is the only one who understands what it feels like.

She’s the only other person Nicole knows that has been left behind.

“Well, he’s going to miss your party,” Wynonna says definitively.

Nicole looks up, frowning. “My what?”

Wynonna starts to smile, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Your party,” she repeats.

“I’m not having a party,” Nicole says slowly.

“Yes, you are,” Wynonna argues. She stretches up on the booth, kneeling. “Hey, Curtis?”

“Hay is for horses,” Curtis calls back. 

Wynonna rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t fade. “Nicole’s birthday is in-”

“Eight,” Waverly says quickly from the jukebox. “I’m keeping track in my Trapper Keeper.”

“Eight days,” Wynonna repeats, ignoring Waverly. “Can we have a party here?”

Nicole’s heart starts to beat double-time, matching “Come On Eileen” playing on the jukebox. A party.  _ At The Patch _ . It would be the coolest party ever, she’s sure. It would be all of her favorite songs on the jukebox and maybe Bobo would make a ton of homefries for her to eat and Nathan would  _ definitely _ be jealous and her dad would feel like a  _ hoser _ for missing her birthday.

Curtis tips his head to one side, and then the other. “How old are you going to be this year?” he asks, squinting at her.

“Twelve,” Nicole says nervously, her whole leg bouncing.

Curtis taps his finger against his chin. “Twelve, huh. Twelve is a big year.”

Nicole’s foot stops tapping the floor. “It is?”

Curtis nods seriously. “Oh, yes. It is.” His voice is level. “In North Baffin, young men go out into the wilderness and show their elders how they’ve learned to live off the land.”

Nicole frowns. “But I don’t live in North Baffin. And I don’t know how to live off the land.”

“She doesn’t like to sleep outside,” Wynonna chimes in. “Remember?”

Nicole feels her face flush when Curtis laughs loudly.

“How could I forget?” he asks. He rubs at his back. “Haven’t slept the same since.”

“There was a  _ raccoon _ ,” Nicole says defensively.

“I think it was a cat,” Wynonna says.

Waverly slides into the booth next to her, too close. Nicole tries to move away but the window is there and she can’t go through it. Waverly grins at her. 

“It was a squirrel,” Waverly says.

“It was a  _ raccoon _ ,” Nicole repeats, her teeth clenched.

“No matter,” Curtis says, waving his hands at them. He’s playing peacemaker, like he always does. Nicole wonders, not for the first time, how he does it so well. He’s standing tall and his eyes are soft and his hands are out in front of his body.  _ I’m safe _ , his whole body says. Nicole swallows hard and pulls her own shoulders back, looking between Waverly and Wynonna, trying to make her eyes look like Curtis’s.

“Do you have gas?” Wynonna asks.

Nicole blinks and sags back into the booth. “No,” she hisses.

“Twelve is important,” Curtis says decisively. “It’s your last year of childhood.” He nods sharply. “Yes. We’ll have to have a birthday party here.”

Nicole’s mouth opens slowly. “What?” she finally asks.

Curtis continues to nod. “We’ll close early and decorate. The whole nine yards.”

“Real… Really?” Nicole asks.

“As long as your mom is okay with it,” Curtis says.

Nicole shakes her head slowly. “She’ll… That’s fine with her.” She winces. “What about Gus?”

Curtis waves her off. “You leave that to me.” He winks. 

Wynonna  _ whoops _ and Waverly claps her hands excitedly.

“Okay,” Wynonna says quickly. “We need to figure out who is invited. And what kind of music you want to listen to. We’ll have to be in charge of the jukebox, for sure.” She shoos Waverly. “Go get a pen. We have a lot to write down.”

_ A party _ , Nicole thinks. Her first.  _ And _ at The Patch.

The feelings in her stomach and the confusion in her head start to fade.   
  


 

-

“Thank you, again,” Nicole says dutifully, her mom’s eyes burning against the back of her neck. 

Curtis grins widely. “No problem, kiddo,” he says, just like he has the last three times Nicole has said something. He claps her on the shoulder, his hand wide and warm, and spins her around, pointing her towards the tables and away from the counter. “Go on. I’ll keep your mom occupied.”

Nicole sighs in relief. “She keeps making me say ‘thank you,’ and I think my tongue is going to fall out of my mouth.”

Curtis laughs. “She just wants you to be a kind and courteous kid.”

“I  _ am _ ,” Nicole insists. 

She tugs at the shirt she picked out this morning, one from Nathan’s closet. He didn’t even make a scene about it, either. She carefully ironed it out and then made him put it on so she could roll the sleeves just right before she ironed them flat. She liked the navy blue pockets on each side and the teal background color. She made her mom wash her good jeans, the ones Waverly hadn’t accidently bedazzled anything to, and found her belt in the back of the closet. 

“You are,” Curtis agrees. “And you look real nice, too.”

Waverly jumps up onto a stool, spinning around so her back is against the edge of the counter. “You do,” she agrees. “Really bunk.”

Nicole looks down at her front. “Do I tuck it in?” she asks nervously. She’s been going back and forth all morning, and she wants to make up her mind before everyone starts arriving.

Curtis leans back, his hand on his chin. “I think… Yes. It’ll look sharp tucked in.”

Nicole hastily shoves the shirt into her jeans, frowning when the fabric puckers. Waverly laughs behind her hand, eyes darting away when Nicole glares at her.

“And…” Curtis trails off and reaches over, his hands warm against her neck as he messes with her collar. He pops the fabric up; she can feel it against her ears. “A popped collar. Like George Michael.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “George Michael?”

“He’s so dreamy,” Waverly says. She looks at the jukebox, a gleam in her eye.

“No way,” Nicole says firmly. “No Wham! at my birthday party.”

“But, Nicole,” Waverly starts.

“No,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly slides down off her stool and lowers her chin, looking up at Nicole through her eyelashes. She’s got her best pout face on, and Nicole can feel her insides twisting again. She frowns at the feeling; it doesn’t make sense. She’s not angry, she’s  _ excited _ . It’s her birthday and she’s having it at The Patch and everyone is coming and Curtis let her pick out her favorite songs so he could frontload the jukebox.

“But no one is here yet,” Waverly reasons.

“It’s my birthday,” Nicole argues.

“It’s just  _ one _ song, that’s all,” Waverly tries.

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “No way.”

“Nicole,” Waverly whines. She pushes out her lower lip. 

Nicole looks away. Waverly is going to make her lower lip wobble a little, and then she’ll kick at the floor and Nicole will give in like she always does. 

The swinging kitchen door opens, and Wynonna stomps into the dining room, eyes narrowed as she takes in Nicole and Waverly in their standoff. She shakes her head firmly. 

“No,” she says loudly.

“No what?” Waverly asks.

“Whatever you’re asking for,” Wynonna says. She steps in front of Nicole. “No.”

“You don’t even know what-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wynonna says sharply. “But it’s probably something totally stupid.”

“Wynonna,” Curtis warns.

Wynonna ignores him. “It’s  _ Nicole’s _ birthday. She gets to make the decisions. No using your dumb superpower to get your way.”

“Yeah,” Nicole echoes weakly.

Waverly huffs and storms off towards the long tables in the middle of the dining room. She picks up one of the streamer rolls and lets it unfurl, dragging it behind her as she heads towards the booth. She starts to add it to the streamers already hanging across the booth edges.

Wynonna throws her arm across Nicole’s shoulders, nodding to herself.

“I was fine,” Nicole huffs.

Wynonna snorts. “You’re Curtis and I’m Gus. Both of you roll over like Sandy believing Rizzo’s a nice person.”

“We do not,” Nicole defends weakly. “And she is. Underneath all that leather…” She trails off, her mouth going dry.

“You do.” Wynonna shrugs a shoulder. “But not today. Today, we listen to the songs  _ you _ want to listen to, and we do the things  _ you _ want to do. It’s your party and you’ll cry if you want to.”

Nicole frowns. “I don’t want to cry.”

“It’s part of the  _ song _ ,” Wynonna says, rolling her eyes. She takes a deep breath and looks around the dining room. “Did everyone say they were coming?”

Nicole nods. “Doc, Mercedes, Chrissy, Dolls, Rosita,” she counts off. “Nathan is bringing Perry Crofte.”

“And Jeremy?”

Nicole makes a face. “He’s nice, but he’s kind of a kid,” she says slowly. Jeremy is nice and he lives next to the McCreadys’ house, but he’s three grades younger than Nicole and he always wears bowties and suspenders, even on Field Days at school. 

“But he buys  _ the best _ gifts,” Wynonna says. She said the same thing the first time she brought up inviting him.

“I guess,” Nicole sighs.

Wynonna pats her on the shoulder. “You’ll see. Now, finish helping Waves set up, okay?” She turns on her heel and marches back towards Curtis, already demanding he raise the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner he’s hanging above the mirror behind the counter. 

Nicole smiles to herself. It’s her first  _ real _ birthday party. Every birthday before this one was a dinner out with her parents, or cookies at school if her mom had the time to make them. But  _ this _ is her first birthday party with streamers and banners and party games. 

Gus and her mom are hanging up pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey over by the jukebox. Waverly is moving chairs by the windows, for musical chairs. She had been on the phone all night last night with Wynonna, coming up with other ideas - egg races and balloon passes - and Wynonna had spread them out on the booths, ready to be set up. Curtis finishes hanging the banner to Wynonna’s specifications and starts blowing up balloons for the balloon passing game.

For a moment, she forgets that Curtis and Gus had to close down The Patch for the day, that her mom had to take a shift off for this, that her dad is living with someone else and he’s having another kid. Survivor is playing on the jukebox, Wynonna is the world’s best friend, Waverly thinks she looks good in her shirt, and everything is  _ perfect _ .

“Noob,” Nathan mutters, bumping into her. He turns and gives Perry a high five.

Perry smiles sheepishly, pushing his hand into his pocket. “Happy Birthday, Nicole.”

Nicole smiles a little. “Thanks, Perry.”

Perry thrusts a card into her hands, a wrapped cassette tape attached to it. “It’s not a lot. Sorry.”

“I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything,” Nathan says. “It’s just my kid sister.”

“It’s a birthday party,” Perry says. “You can’t come empty-handed.”

“Or in a regular shirt?” Nathan asks, tugging at the two popped collars Perry is wearing. He’s got one polo shirt on over another, and both of them make Nicole want to put sunglasses on. 

Perry bats Nathan’s hand away. “Dude, get bent.” He’s grinning, though.

Nathan smoothes down the front of the shirt he picked out, an old Beatles tour shirt that belonged to her dad. Survivor fades out, and nothing else comes on. Nicole scowls, her good mood souring.

“Nathan,” her mom says, calling him over. “Come help Curtis blow up these balloons.”

“Yeah,” Nicole mumbles. “You’re full of hot air.”

Nathan smiles and nods at her mom and then grabs the end of Nicole’s hair when her mom turns around, tugging hard.

“ _ Ow _ ,” Nicole hisses.

“Noob,” Nathan repeats.

The bell above the door jingles, and Mercedes comes into The Patch, a red and white wrapped gift in her hands. She pauses in the doorway and pushes at her hair. 

Nathan missteps, bumping into a table. A stack of cassettes Nicole had put in order crashes to the floor, scattering across the tiled linoleum.

“Nathan!” Nicole shouts.

Nathan stares down at the tapes, his forehead wrinkled.

Mercedes snorts, her hand over her mouth.

Nicole shoulders Nathan out of the way, bending down to pick up the cassettes. She groans as she finds a broken case, the corner chipped and missing. Waverly kneels down next to her, scooping them up. They’re all copies of Joan Jett & The Blackhearts’  _ I Love Rock ‘n Roll _ \- extras Mattie had in the back of the Forge that she wasn’t selling, and that she gave to Nicole to hand out.  _ Party favors _ , she called them. Waverly hands her another one with a sad smile, the plastic cracked down the front.

Nicole puts the cassettes down and turns on Nathan, her hand clenched in a fist at her side.

“Okay,” her mom says smoothly, stepping in between Nicole and Nathan. Nicole looks over her mom’s shoulder at Nathan, scowling still. “Nathan, go help Curtis,” she repeats. “And open your eyes.” Her mom turns towards Nicole, smiling. “You had extras, right?”

“Yeah,” Nicole mutters.

“Well, isn’t that lucky, then.” Her mom brushes some of her hair back. “It’s almost time. Why don’t you go pick a song on the jukebox, huh?”

Waverly grabs her arm and pulls her towards the jukebox, swaying into her side. “What songs do you want to pick?”

Nicole shrugs, still scowling.

“We can listen to anything you want,” Waverly continues. “ _ Even _ Bad Company.”

Nicole snorts. “Gus would never let us listen to it.”

Waverly shrugs. “If  _ you _ play it, she would. Not Wynonna.”

Nicole pauses, hesitating. Her finger hovers over the button. “Really?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Waverly nods and Nicole presses A12, listening to the tape click and drop into place.

“ _ If I hear you knockin' hard upon my door, ain't no way that I'm gonna answer it. 'Cause cheating is a one thing and lying is another _ ,” the song starts.

“Wynonna!” Gus snaps.

“What?” Wynonna asks from the tables.

“My rule was-”

“I didn’t pick the song!” Wynonna jabs her finger in Nicole’s direction.

Gus’s shoulders drop. “Oh, well. Okay, then.”

“What?” Wynonna shouts.

Gus shrugs. “It’s her birthday.”

Nicole grins at Waverly.

“It’s my birthday,” she repeats.

 

-

“My turn next!” Wynonna demands. She shoulders Jeremy out of the way and takes the broomstick out of his hands, hefting it up onto her shoulder. She eyes the piñata hanging from the ceiling, circling it like the sharks Nicole saw once in the documentary they watched in science class last year. 

“As soon as someone cracks this thing open, we’ll do cake and presents,” Curtis announces.

Curtis, Gus, and her mom are sitting at the counter, their backs against the edge of the top as they watch everyone try to break a multi-colored donkey piñata. The Patch is a mess - scattered french fry baskets, dirty plates, and half-empty cups of soda are everywhere. There’s hard-boiled eggs stuck to the floor from their race across the room. There’s streamers everywhere, draped across the seats they used for musical chairs. Nicole has a bruise forming on her side where Mercedes elbowed her during the last round, but there’s a grin on her face.

Waverly presses against her side. “I can’t believe Mercedes pushed you.”

Nicole snorts, looking at Nathan and Perry smiling, dumbstruck, at Mercedes. “I can.”

“Isn’t she dating Jonas?”

Nicole shrugs. “They held hands at lunch last week, I think.”

Waverly wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

Nicole’s palm feels sweaty, and she shoves it into her pocket, curled tight into a fist. “Totally grody,” she agrees dully, looking at Waverly. 

That feeling is back again, and she swallows hard, trying to fight it off. It doesn’t make sense, the feeling like she’s standing on a boat, and she’s  _ angry _ . It’s her birthday party and she’s happy and she’s standing with both feet on the ground. 

A loud  _ crack _ breaks her thoughts, and she turns just as plastic-wrapped hard candies scatter on the tile. It sounds like rain on the roof during a bad storm. Nicole scoops up a few pieces on the outside of the circle, cheering Wynonna on as she dives headfirst at the ground. It’s all elbows and knees, and Perry crawls out of the pile clutching his leg. Nathan is rolling around, his hands full of candies as Dolls picks a few more up. Even Jeremy is shoving them into his pocket greedily. Chrissy and Rosita trade candies back and forth, wrinkling their noses at the licorice ones. Mercedes makes a small pile for herself and starts tossing the ones she doesn’t like back down on the floor.

Nicole picks up a red candy - cherry - and hands it to Waverly. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Perry slide Chrissy all of his lemon ones. 

“Sit down, sit down!” Curtis calls over everyone trading candies.

Nicole grabs a chair and drags it to the table, sitting on it backwards. The swinging door to the kitchen opens just as Gus flips the lights off. Her mom is carrying the biggest cake Nicole has ever seen. It’s as tall as a ruler, with vanilla frosting and about a hundred candles. They flicker and wave brightly, lighting up her mom’s face.

“Wow,” Nicole breathes out as her mom puts the cake down in front of her. She reads the top of the cake where Wynonna’s sloppy handwriting has scrawled out ‘Hapy Brithday Nicole!” in blue icing, and she grins widely.

Waverly leans closer and frowns in the candlelight. “That’s not how you-”

Nicole pinches Waverly’s wrist and she closes her mouth, glaring at Nicole. Wynonna smiles widely at her, clapping her hard on the back.

“This is the best,” Nicole says, eyes on the cake. She counts twelve candles, not a hundred, but each one is for her, on  _ her _ birthday cake. Not  _ cupcakes  _ or cookies, but a whole  _ cake _ , just for her.

“On three,” her mom instructs. “One, two, three…”

“Happy Birthday to you!” everyone sings. “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, Nicole! Happy Birthday to you!”

Perry and Nathan drum their hands on the table loudly and Wynonna is clapping her hands and laughing, Doc leaning into her side. Waverly is squeezing Nicole’s arm tightly, grinning wide. Chrissy, Rosita, and Mercedes are still singing off-key. Dolls and Jeremy pick up Nathan and Perry’s drumbeat as they wait for Nicole to blow out the candles. 

She closes her eyes tightly, inhales, and holds her breath. 

_ Make a wish _ , she thinks.  _ Make a wish and make it count _ .

She thinks about wishing for her dad to come home, or wishing that she finds a lottery ticket with enough money so her mom doesn’t need to work double Sunday shifts anymore. She thinks about wishing to be grown up, so she can drive a car, or to finally get the leather jacket she saw in the window at the mall.

She opens one eye and glances around the table and knows what she wants.

_ I wish I could be this happy for forever _ , she thinks as she breathes out, the candles going out instantly. The last candle flickers for a moment but goes dark.

Everyone claps loudly, and someone turns the lights back on.

Gus takes the cake and starts to cut slices while Wynonna shoves gifts into her hands.

“Open mine first,” she demands, hovering over Nicole. “Open it, open it.”

Nicole turns the small rectangular package over in her hand. She shakes it gently, hiding a smile as Wynonna starts bouncing her foot impatiently. 

“ _ Open it _ ,” Wynonna hisses, reaching to take the present.

Nicole turns her body, shielding the gift. “Gimme a second.”

“I’m giving you a lifetime. You’re 30 now, and we’re old, and you  _ still _ haven’t opened it,” Wynonna complains.

Nicole peels back a corner of the wrapping paper and glances up at Wynonna, smiling widely when Wynonna groans and throws her arms over her head. She gives in, ripping the wrapping paper off and turning the cassette over in her hands.

“ _ Rough Diamonds,”  _ Nicole reads. “This is the last album with John Bonham,” she says, her voice soft with awe.

Wynonna picks it out of her hands, turning it over. “As your best friend,” she starts.

The table groans.

“As your best friend,” Wynonna says a little louder. “It’s my job to claim halfsies on all of your cool stuff. So you don’t totally ruin it.”

“Of course,” Nicole says flatly.

“I’ll hold onto this,” Wynonna says, nodding to herself. “Give it a listen,” she says, mimicking Curtis. “Make sure it’s kid-friendly.”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“I would be honored if you opened mine next,” Doc says, holding out a box. He smiles proudly, puffing his chest out.

“I don’t want half of this one,” Wynonna mutters, sitting down.

Nicole rips the wrapping paper off quickly, tipping her head in confusion as she reads the lettering on the box. “Chapel Hats,” she says out loud. She wrinkles her nose at Doc. “What’s this?”

“Go on,” Doc urges excitedly.

Nicole shakes the top off the box, peering down into the tissue paper shoved inside. She pulls it out, wadding it up and tossing it at the side of Wynonna’s head. She looks back down into the box, her smile freezing on her face.

“We can match!” Doc shouts, unable to hold back another second. He touches the hat on top of his head, tipping it. “I selected dusty brown, though, because the man at the shop insinuated that it would go best with your hair.” He doesn’t wait for Nicole to pick the hat out of the box, reaching for it himself and dropping it on top of Nicole’s head. 

It’s a little big, and it comes down low on her forehead, touching the tops of her ears. She pushes it back just a bit, offering Doc a tight smile.

“Wow,” she breathes out.

“Well if you are not the picture of-”

“ _ Totally lame _ ,” Wynonna crows. 

Nicole scowls and pulls the hat more firmly down on her head. “I love it,” she says, eyes on Wynonna.

Wynonna rolls her eyes and Doc beams.

“Thank you, John Henry,” Nicole says.

Wynonna sticks her tongue out at Nicole.

“You are most welcome,” Doc says. He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Now you can truly be a cop during cops and robbers.”

Nicole flushes, her eyes cutting to Waverly and Chrissy for a minute. No one else knows that sometimes, she and Doc still play cops and robbers like they used to when they were younger. Sometimes, she’ll tell Wynonna she can’t come over, and she meets Doc out at their secret hideout in the woods and they play until the sun goes down.

Nicole is always the cop, and she usually borrows Doc’s hat, pretending to be Bass Reeves. 

Chrissy slides another gift in front of her. “It’s from me and Rosita,” she explains.

Nicole opens it - another cassette.  _ Tattoo You _ by The Rolling Stones. She grins. “Hey, this-”

“Mattie said you were staring at it all last week,” Chrissy explains. She looks back at Rosita. “We wanted to get you one you would like.”

“I love it,” Nicole says. She puts it down reverently on the table. “Thank you.”

Chrissy’s face flushes for a moment.

Mercedes elbows Wynonna out of the way, moving her back from the table. “Mine is something to remind you of me.” She hands over a cassette, unwrapped, and shrugs. “My mom usually has the lady at the store wrap presents, so she didn’t know how to.”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t care.”

It’s Pat Benatar’s  _ Crimes of Passion _ , Pat on the cover in a leotard. Mercedes winks at her, and Nicole’s eyes widen for a moment before she puts the cassette down, sliding  _ Tattoo You _ on top of it.

“Thanks, Mercedes,” she manages.

Dolls gets her REO Speedwagon’s  _ High Infidelity _ ; Nathan begrudgingly hands her a copy of Def Leppard’s  _ On Through The Night _ ; Perry picked up The J. Geils Band’s  _ Freeze Frame _ . 

Jeremy inches his present forward slowly. Nicole pushes her hat back; it’s slipping down in front of her eyes again. Jeremy’s box is larger than Doc’s, and heavier, too. She frowns as she peels off the wrapping paper, her eyes widening slowly.

“No,” she breathes out.

Jeremy is still sitting in his seat, hands moving in front of him nervously. “I should have asked if you had one,” he starts. “I didn’t think that maybe you already do, and-”

“I don’t,” Nicole interrupts. She rips the paper off the rest of the way, exposing the box lettering to everyone else.

It’s a  1983 Toshiba RT-200S, silver, with an auto-reverse feature. Nicole runs her hands over the box, tracing the illustrated stereo on the front. She greedily pulls the tab on the top, rushing to open it and take it out and touch it. A boombox -  _ her very own _ .

“Jeremy,” she says. “I…”

Jeremy shrugs a shoulder and smiles at her. “If anyone should have one, it should be you.” He anxiously tugs at his bowtie - orange and blue today - and nods.

“Thank you,” she breathes out.

Her mom presses a hand to her shoulder. “Not sure I can top that,” she jokes, moving the boombox off the table.

Nicole’s stomach flops as it goes down on another table. She wants to take it out and set it up and put her new Bad Company tape - after she wrestles it out of Wynonna’s pocket, at least.

Her mom puts a gift box in front of her that Nicole tears into. The quicker she gets through the rest of the presents, the quicker she gets to her boombox. It’s a paper box, the kind clothes come in. Nicole braces herself for a flowy shirt, or a skirt with flowers on it, and plasters on a smile that feels wooden. She pulls the top of the box off and her mouth falls open, the smile sliding off her face quickly.

“I hope it fits,” her mom says. “I made Nathan try it on and it’s just a little snug, so I thought it would be okay.”

Nicole carefully picks up the jean jacket inside the gift box, holding it up in front of her. “I  _ love _ it,” she whispers. She carefully slides it on, shivering excitedly as it settles on her shoulders. It fits perfect, resting just at her wrists and where her shirt is tucked into her pants. She tips her hat low, winking at Waverly.

Waverly laughs and looks away for a moment before her eyes find Nicole’s again.

“This is the best,” Nicole says to her mom. “I love it.”

Her mom lifts her hat, kisses the top of her forehead, and drops the hat back down. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Curtis steps up beside her, grins, and hands her a small envelope. “From Gus and me. We got them after your mom told us what she picked out for you. Wynonna helped.”

“You’ll know which one,” Wynonna says, smiling.

Nicole opens the envelope and smiles excitedly. “ _ Patches _ ,” she breathes out. There’s a Rolling Stones patch, a KISS one. She sees another Aerosmith patch, and an REO Speedwagon one, too.

“I’ll sew them on later,” her mom promises before Nicole can ask.

“Who’s ready for cake?” Gus asks, putting a slice down in front of Nicole.

Nicole looks up at Waverly and feels her shoulders slump. Waverly hadn’t given her a gift, and isn’t even looking at her now, turned towards Chrissy and Rosita instead. Nicole fights down her disappointment, turning her attention to her cake instead. Wynonna is eating it with her hands, ignoring Gus’s warnings to eat like a human being and not a rabid raccoon. 

The cake tastes like cardboard, chalky and stale in her mouth. She looks up at Waverly again, trying to catch her eye. She doesn’t  _ need _ a gift, but she was hoping…

Nicole shakes her head. She doesn’t know what she was hoping for. Or  _ why _ she was hoping for it. That feeling is back in her stomach, and she definitely knows it’s anger now; anger at Waverly for forgetting her.

She stabs her fork into her cake and forces a smile on her face when Wynonna changes the song on the jukebox to Willie Nelson’s “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys” and steals Doc’s hat, using the broken piñata like a horse.

 

-

“I knew Wynonna was going to ditch us,” Waverly mutters.

Nicole looks up from the stack of french fry baskets she’s stacking. “What?”

“I said I knew Wynonna was going to leave us here with this mess,” Waverly repeats, gesturing to the dining room. 

It’s a  _ mess _ . There’s streamers, smushed cake, egg shells, candy wrappers, and confetti littering the floor and across the tabletops. It was the one condition Gus and Curtis had about using The Patch for the party - Nicole, Waverly, and Wynonna had to clean it up afterwards.

Wynonna had taken off, though, trailing after Doc on her bike as he pedaled home. Curtis and Gus had gone into the back with her mom, and left Nicole in charge. Doc pressed a kiss to Wynonna’s cheek and promised to see her later, but Wynonna had told him to wait and flashed Nicole an apologetic smile before following him. Nathan and Perry went to the baseball field; some kids were going to play sandlot before the streetlights went off. Chrissy, Rosita, Dolls, and Jeremy went to Mattie’s, and Tucker came by on his flashy bike to tell Mercedes she needed to come home. 

Nicole had swallowed back the ebbing anger in her stomach and given Waverly a thin smile and the broom.

Nicole is carrying a large black trash bag around, scooping as much of the trash in it as she can in. “She wanted to see Doc,” she says, shrugging.

Waverly scowls. “She sees him all the time. It’s your birthday party.”

“My party is over, though,” Nicole points out. She hooks her thumb over her shoulder and points to the clock. “It ended a while ago.”

Waverly opens her mouth, but closes it again silently. She sweeps a little harder, the hard bristles of the broom scratching at the linoleum. 

Nicole sighs as she stares at the table where they ate. She’s still in her jean jacket, but she wants to just sweep her arm across the top and let everything crash into the bag. But she doesn’t want to get soda or frosting on her brand new jacket. She peels the denim off and hangs it over one of the stools at the counter, careful to make sure it’ll stay still and not slide off onto the floor.

She nods, satisfied, and turns back to the table, pushing at the mess suddenly. 

Waverly yelps over Kiss’s “Talk To Me,” the sound of the trash hitting the bag and the floor scaring her. “What’re you doing?”

“Cleaning,” Nicole says, shrugging.

“Making a mess,” Waverly says over her. “You just moved the mess onto the floor.”

Nicole winces. “I was aiming for the trash bag,” she says.

Waverly narrows her eyes. “You missed.”

“Well, duh,” Nicole mutters. She starts scooping it up with her hands, dropping it into the bag.

Waverly drops the broom, the wooden stick making a loud  _ slap _ against the tiles. Nicole jumps, her handful of trash falling back on the floor.

“What the-”

“Language,” Waverly says quickly.

Nicole pouts. “It’s my birthday.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” Waverly points out. “It’s really tomorrow.”

Nicole huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “Fine.”

Waverly toes the linoleum, frowning to herself. “Wait right here,” she finally says. She turns sharply, swaying to one side before righting herself and rounding the counter. She ducks out of sight, and Nicole winces when a glass hits the ground with a soft  _ clink _ . Nicole kicks at a stretch of streamer until Waverly stands up, coming back into the dining room, a wrapped gift in her arms.

Nicole swallows heavily. “Is that…”

“For you,” Waverly finishes.

“I thought-” Nicole stops herself, her face flushing. She pushes her hands into her pockets, embarrassed now.

“Thought what?” Waverly pushes.

Nicole shakes her head. “It’s lame.”

Waverly steps closer, her eyes soft. “What did you think?”

“I thought…” Nicole takes a deep breath. “I thought you didn’t get me anything,” she admits. She looks away, kicking at the streamers again. “It’s stupid. You don’t  _ need _ to get my anything.”

“But I did,” Waverly says. She takes another step forward. “I was going to get you that Rolling Stones cassette you wanted, but Chrissy and Rosita got it before I could, and then…” She looks away. “And then I  _ made _ you something, and I-”

“You  _ made _ me something?” Nicole asks, her head snapping up. She looks at the misshapen lump in Waverly’s arms. “What is it?”

Waverly looks down at the present. “I was going to give it to you when everyone else was doing presents,” she says. “But then Wynonna made fun of the hat Doc got you, and Jeremy got the boombox-”

“A 1983 Toshiba RT-200S,” Nicole corrects instinctually.

Waverly rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Yeah, okay. Dweeb,” she adds.

Nicole wrinkles her nose at Waverly before looking at the Toshiba . “It’s  _ beautiful _ ,” she whispers. “It has an auto-reverse function, did you know that?”

Waverly nods slowly. “Because you’ve told me, like, a hundred times.”

Nicole feels her cheeks burn. “Right.”

“My gift is kind of… lame,” Waverly says quietly, barely over Survivor coming on the jukebox. 

“ _ There you stood, that'll teach ya to look so good and feel so right. _ ”

Nicole makes a  _ gimme _ motion with her hands, holding both of them out. “Give it.”

Waverly hesitates. “This is a good song,” she says.

_ “I touched your hand before the crowd started crushin' in.” _

“Come on, Waves,” Nicole insists. “I’m sure it’s clutch.”

“It’s not as cool as your boom-  _ Toshiba _ ,” she corrects. “Or your cowboy hat. Or your jean jacket.” Waverly pauses. “Can I bedazzle it?”

“No way, dude,” Nicole says quickly. “Don’t come anywhere near my jacket with that weapon.” She puffs out her chest. “When I become a Sheriff’s Deputy, I’m gonna arrest that thing and lock it up for good.”

Waverly’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.” She scowls. “You can’t.”

“Watch me,” Nicole says smugly. 

Waverly takes a step back. “Then no gift.”

“ _ I can't stop thinking 'bout you girl. I must be living in a fantasy world. _ ”

Nicole pushes her lower lip out and kicks at the floor. She looks up slowly, and Waverly is glaring at her.

“That’s not fair,” Waverly says. “I don’t like that.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder sadly.

Waverly huffs loudly and stomps towards her, shoving the gift into her arms. “Take it.” She hesitates. “But…”

Nicole ignores Waverly, ripping the wrapping paper off and tossing it carelessly behind her. She holds the present in her hands, staring down at it for a minute before she understands what she’s looking at.

“ _ Smart and coy, a little crazy. The kinda face that starts a fight. _ ”

It’s pink, square, and  _ shiny _ . Jewels sparkle in the overhead lights, catching the neon from the front windows. Waverly bedazzled the entire front cover in different colored jewels, making them into an oval-shape. She glued a picture of Nicole on the front - an old one from a few Christmases ago, holding the brownie Waverly had made in her Easy Bake Oven.

“What…” Nicole trails off, turning the first page.

“It’s a scrapbook,” Waverly explains. “I spent all weekend working on it. You don’t take a lot of pictures,” she accuses. “Your mom wants, like, a hundred more of you, she said.”

“ _ We were high before the night started kickin' in… _ ”

Nicole turns page after page. There’s pictures of Nicole and Wynonna, Nicole and Wynonna and Doc, Nicole and Nathan. She turns more pages and finds more pictures: Nicole and her mom; Nicole and Curtis and Gus at The Patch; Nicole and Wynonna on their first day of school; Nicole riding her bike down the street; Nicole and Wynonna and Waverly sitting on the McCreadys’ front steps. There’s a single page with one of Nicole, Wynonna, Waverly, and Curtis - their faces smushed together as they stand together in front of The Patch.

“Waves,” she breathes out.

The last few pages are pictures of just Nicole and Waverly: at Christmas, at The Patch, sitting in the back of Curtis’s truck, playing on the front lawn. 

“I thought Wynonna would make fun of it,” Waverly admits. “But…” She takes a deep breath. Her hand curls around Nicole’s arm. “Happy Birthday,” she whispers.

“ _ I can't stop thinking 'bout you girl. I must be living in a fantasy world. I've searched the whole world over to find a heart so true.” _

Waverly sways closer, her lips brushing against Nicole’s cheek. She lingers there for a moment before she pulls back, her breath hot against Nicole’s face.

That feeling is back, roaring in her belly.

_ “Such complete intoxication, I'm high on you. _ ”

Waverly takes a step back slowly, then another, before she turns and leaves The Patch. Through the window, Nicole watches her get on her bike and push off, pedaling towards Mattie’s. 

Nicole presses her hand to her cheek, feeling it burn under her touch.

“You okay there, girl?” Curtis asks from behind her.

Nicole turns slowly, clutching the scrapbook to her chest tightly. “Yeah,” she breathes out.

Curtis leans against the counter, eyes scanning the dining room. “Some party, huh?”

Nicole nods. “Best…” She trails off and blinks. She thinks about her new jacket, the band patches her mom is going to sew on it, her hat, her new cassettes, her  _ boombox _ , and her scrapbook. She looks up, meeting Curtis’s eyes. “This was the best birthday,  _ ever _ .”


End file.
